


Inspired

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cock & Ball Torture, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, M/M, No Aftercare, No Plot/Plotless, Piano, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-08 04:34:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8830594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "The song has been rising from the back of his mind for days, creeping into the edges of his mind as he drifts to sleep and fitting itself to the sound of his footsteps as he walks, and Licht’s been waiting for it, letting the shape of the music fit itself to the flow of his life while he waits for the proper moment to uncover the last shadows from the finished whole." Licht finds inspiration in all aspects of his daily life.





	

Licht is working on a new piece.

The music is in his head. He can hear it fluttering in the back of his thoughts, a half-formed melody lilting over the mundanity of his daily life like a bird’s wings thrumming against the bars of a cage of inattention. It’s been rising from the back of his mind for days, creeping into the edges of his thoughts as he drifts to sleep and fitting itself to the sound of his footsteps as he walks, and Licht’s been waiting for it, letting the shape of the music fit itself to the flow of his life while he waits for the proper moment to uncover the last shadows from the finished whole. It’s been days, now, mornings spent with melodic harmonies to go with the taste of his breakfast and evenings feeling his heartbeat fit itself to the rhythm of a bass line; and now it’s time, Licht can feel it in his bones, it’s time to settle himself into the peace of a quiet room and let the music fall free from his thoughts onto the keys in front of him.

“Bravo, Licht-tan, bravo!”

Unfortunately, his current location is something less than peaceful.

“If music be the food of love, play on!” Lawless rants, pacing out over the span of the room while gesturing wide into the space around him as if he’s under the bright glow of stage lights instead of caught in the narrow confines of the hotel room he and Licht are assigned to share. “Angel-chan plucks the music from the heavens themselves to fill our ears with its dulcet tones. Who am I, poor lost soul, to be so blessed with its hearing?”

“Shut up,” Licht says without looking up from the keys. He reaches out for one of the lower ranges, presses the weight of a dark chord into the air to underscore his frustration. “Sit down and _listen_.”

“Dost thou not know that I am a vampire?” Lawless comes up onto one toe, kicking himself into a spin as if he intends now to be dancer as well as actor. “When I think, I must speak. Sweet, play on!”

“Not if you don’t shut up.” Licht runs his fingers up the keys, trailing over a series of discordant notes to fit to the strain of irritation building along his spine. “I’ll shut you back up in the cage if you keep on like this.”

“So mean, angel-chan!” Lawless  laughs. “You know I can’t hear nearly as well in my animal form. Would you deprive me of the full pleasure of hearing the beauty of your creation?”

“I don’t care if you hear it or not, demon.”

“Aha, is it not demons who most need the purification of your blessed music?” Lawless skips across the width of the room to close in on Licht’s position at the piano bench; Licht doesn’t look up from the keys under his fingertips, but he can hear Lawless’s steps stutter and slow as the other approaches, can see the shift of the other’s clothing in his periphery. “I know the benevolent Licht-tan wouldn’t want to deprive even a lowly vampire of the chance to bask in his music.”

“You’re not _basking_ ,” Licht tells him. “You’re _interrupting_. Keep your mouth shut or I’ll shut it for you.”

“Ooh,” Lawless says, his voice dropping over a ledge and into shadow. “Is that a _promise_?”

Licht lifts his gaze from the piano keys in front of him and turns his head to the side. Lawless is standing just clear of Licht’s elbow, his whole body turned in to face the other. His shoulders are relaxed, his feet apart; there’s the slightest tilt to his head, just enough to make the dark of his glasses in front of his eyes tip off-center over his gaze. And then there’s his gaze: dark, liquid, strangely incandescent behind the usual scarlet color, as if there’s sunlight spilling from behind the weight of his lashes. His lips are parted as if on breathlessness, his fingers curling taut at his sides; he looks like a strung bow, like the whole of his body is trembling with barely-restrained force, like he’s waiting Licht’s touch to snap.

Licht looks at Lawless for a long moment. He can feel his heart beating a steady rhythm in his chest, can feel the moments measured out by the pattern of his breathing. In front of him Lawless all but trembles in anticipation, his whole body quivering with every dip of his lashes. Licht lets the moment go long, lets the silence stretch into the weight of expectation at the start of a concert, the breathless hesitation of fingers hovering over as-yet-untouched keys; and then he lifts a hand from the smooth ivory of the piano in front of him, and reaches out to let his fingers drop into the first chord of intention against Lawless’s chest. His palm lands hard, his hand pressing flush over the other’s unbeating heart, and Lawless exhales a gusting breath that sounds like desperate relief even as Licht pushes to his feet over the piano bench.

“Of course I will,” he says, still keeping his fixed attention on Lawless’s face as he pushes hard enough to force the other backwards in front of him as he steps away from the piano bench. Lawless stumbles back without watching where he’s going, the manic glow of his eyes fixed on Licht and his lips still parted on the rush of his too-fast breathing. He looks anxious, desperate, as if Licht is the only thing left in the whole world worth looking at, and Licht doesn’t look away, barely so much as blinks as he walks Lawless back across the space. “I always do what I say I will.” He pauses in the middle of the space, with all the elaborate furnishings of the expensive room laid out around them, though neither of them is looking at anything but each other. “Do you know why?”

Lawless licks his lips. “Because you’re an angel.” He sounds hoarse already, his voice raw like he’s dragging it up from the depths of his chest; under his palm Licht can feel the whole of Lawless’s body trembling like a tuning fork struck against a tabletop.

“That’s right,” Licht says. “Because I’m an angel.” He moves fast, without giving any more warning than what his words offer to the shift of his feet, to the tilt of his body as his weight tips over one foot and the other swings out sideways. His shin catches the side of Lawless’s knee, the force slamming hard against the give of the joint, and Lawless huffs a startled exhale as his stance gives way to drop him forward to the floor. His knees hit the surface hard, his whole body rocks forward almost to topple against Licht in front of him, and Licht brings his foot around into the space between them without hesitating. Lawless sucks in a breath as he lands, his eyes going wide at the shock of impact, and while he’s still gaping into the first moment of startled pain Licht catches the toe of his boot against the front of Lawless’s pants. Lawless tips forward involuntarily, his whole body curving in to press hard against the support Licht offers, and Licht lets his foot weight harder, rests his heel against the floor so he can dig the toe of his boot in close against the other. Lawless makes a strangled sound against Licht’s hip, his voice breaking high and strained in the back of his throat, and Licht presses down harder, grinding his foot in and down without reaching out for the tangled waves of golden hair in front of him.

“I told you I’d keep you from talking,” he says, speaking clear over the whine of Lawless’s breathing going desperate and hot against him. “You need something to keep that mouth of yours busy.”

Lawless whimpers against his hip. “Licht-tan,” he manages. Licht rocks his weight forward over his toes, angles his foot to grind down against Lawless, and Lawless moans against him, his hands coming up to seize at Licht’s hips to hold him still or pull him closer, Licht doesn’t think even Lawless could say which. When he lifts his head his glasses are sliding off-center against his nose, his eyes are half-lidded into pure shadow; his lips are still parted, his breathing ragged, his mouth soft and warm and wet with promise. His fingers clench convulsively at Licht’s skin. “Can I?”

Licht lifts his hands from his sides, brings them up to slide into the pockets of his sweater. Lawless’s lashes flutter, his chin drops down; the angle turns his eyes to black, turns his mouth to shadow. “Go ahead.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Lawless breathes, and then Licht bears down against his foot and Lawless drops his head completely, his whole body curving in on itself as he shudders with the force of the other’s movement. Licht can feel the resistance of Lawless’s body under his foot, can see the tremor that runs along the back of the other’s neck and down his spine; he can taste heat in the air when he inhales, can feel the pressure of desire building against the base of his spine and sliding up to the line of his shoulders. Lawless shudders against him again, a brief, helpless tremor of reaction; and then he lets one of his hands go, easing his bracing grip on Licht’s hip so he can draw his hand across to press at the front of the other’s pants. His touch is clumsy, rough with haste and uncoordinated on the heat Licht is pressing out into him, but it’s still enough to pin Licht’s clothes close against his length, still enough to shudder a first spike of tension up his spine and along his shoulders. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t so much as shift to take his hands from his pockets; but he can feel anticipation curving into the small of his back, can feel his thighs flexing on the first expectation of friction.

Lawless moves fast. He’s not particularly elegant about his movement -- he never is, by the time Licht brings him to this point -- but there’s a satisfaction in seeing the clumsy desire trembling under his fingers, to seeing the way he fumbles with the fastenings of Licht’s pants with fingers that are shaking so badly they barely obey him at all. He has to give up his other hold to manage it, has to bring both his hands to work together on the button and the clicking metal of the zipper; Licht could do it in a matter of seconds, even one-handed, but he doesn’t free his hands from his pockets, doesn’t make any attempt to assist Lawless in what he’s doing. He likes to see Lawless struggle with it, likes to see the desperation building in the hunch of the other’s shoulders and the tremor of his fingers, and then Lawless gets his pants open and pulls the cloth back and free, and Licht can see all the tension in the other’s expression fall into the slack weight of appreciation.

Licht gives him a minute. There’s a satisfaction to this, too, a low purr of gratification to watching Lawless look at him like he is, as if Licht is everything in the world he has ever wanted, as if the reality of Licht in front of him is more than he can stand. But Licht’s patience is fraying on the demands of desire, the heat in his veins pleading for more than the distant appreciation of Lawless on his knees before him, and so after a moment Licht rocks his foot in closer against the tension at the front of Lawless’s pants and says “Lawless,” low and purring over the back of his throat. Lawless’s lashes flutter at the weight of Licht’s foot against him, his body tips forward and in; but the sound he makes is incoherent, dazed with heat instead of an acknowledgment of the other’s words, and Licht frowns down at the gold of Lawless’s bowed head.

“Lawless,” he says again, with a little more of a bite on the name. “ _Hyde_.” Lawless jerks like he’s been shocked, lifting his head to look up at Licht in a rush; his gaze is unfocused, his lips parted, his cheeks flushed fever-bright into heat. He looks undone already, like the weight of Licht’s boot grinding down against him has broken whatever minimal restraints he usually has on himself, and the whole of his expression runs through Licht like fire. Licht sucks in a breath of heat, feels anticipation straining hard against the whole of his spine; and then he tips his head back, and angles his gaze down the line of his nose to meet Lawless’s heat-melted attention, and says, “Are you just planning to _look_?” with as much disdain as he can grant to the word.

Licht can see Lawless’s throat tense, can see the shape of “ _Oh_ ” at his lips before the sound makes it to his own ears. Lawless’s lashes shift, his gaze flickering dark as he ducks his head, and this time when he moves it’s with speed, all that clumsy desperation reasserting itself under the form of his actions. His fingers pull Licht’s clothing aside, his touch drags at the waistband of the other’s pants; when he reaches out to brush his fingers against flushed skin Licht can feel the tremor running through Lawless’s body in the weight of the other’s touch against him. It makes his breathing tighten, flexes heat into the line of his thighs, and when he moves it’s to rock his hips forward, just barely, just by an inch, enough to make an overt suggestion of the line of his cock flushed hot under Lawless’s touch.

“Open your mouth,” he orders, dominance sweet and heavy on his tongue, and Lawless moans something more surrender than protest and obeys, his lashes fluttering closed over his eyes as he lifts his chin and lets his mouth fall open. His fingers are still weighting against Licht’s skin, his hand still trembling slightly at the other’s length, and Licht doesn’t tell him to let go, doesn’t slide his hands free of his pockets to pull Lawless’s hand away. He just moves, as deliberately as if he’s setting down the first notes of a concert, balancing his weight over the foot he has flat on the floor and the toes still pressing against Lawless’s pants as he rocks his hips forward in a careful, deliberate arc. His cock slides against Lawless’s touch, drags along the offhand friction of the other’s skin, and then the head bumps against Lawless’s parted lips, and this time when Lawless makes a sound Licht can feel it run right over the flushed-sensitive length of his cock.

“Wider,” he says, and he’s rocking closer as fast as Lawless obeys, pressing his weight forward to slide in against the warm wet of the other’s mouth. Lawless’s lips shift, the other makes a faint sound in the back of his throat as Licht presses in against him, and Licht’s whole body draws tight for the first shuddering moment of relief as Lawless’s mouth closes around the flushed weight of his cock. Lawless is moaning far in the back of his throat, offering some incoherent sound to match the dark span of his lashes laid over his cheeks, and Licht can see the color flushing dark over the other’s face to echo the tension pressing hard against the underside of his foot. He rocks in closer, sliding deeper into Lawless’s mouth as he goes, and against the weight of his boot Lawless’s hips jerk, his body straining upwards to press closer against Licht over him.

“Like that,” Licht says, his voice resonant over night-dark shadows formed from the purring weight of arousal running up his spine. “Hold still.” And then he starts to move, rocking his weight back to ease the pressure at Lawless’s pants as he slides away before coming forward again to thrust the heat of his cock in over Lawless’s tongue and grind his boot down against the resistance of the other’s body under his foot. Lawless groans with every increase of pressure, his throat opening up on sound with every forward thrust Licht takes, and with each movement Licht slides a little deeper, feels himself pressing Lawless’s mouth a little wider with the forward stroke of his hips. Lawless is licking against him, is pressing his lips tighter against Licht’s shaft and sucking as if to draw the other deeper into his mouth, but it’s his own rhythm that Licht is following, the pattern of his heartbeat coming loud and steady in his chest that guides his movement. Lawless’s mouth is hot against him, Lawless’s tongue is dragging slick over sensitive skin; but Licht is still pressing deeper, still urging for more from the other as his foot bears down against the heat of Lawless’s cock under his boot, as the pressure of his force is met and matched by the strain of desire pressing hard against Lawless’s pants. Lawless is panting as Licht thrusts far into his mouth, gasping for air he doesn’t need but reflex tells him he must have; his mouth is slack, lips parted, the whole of him melting into passive surrender. Licht tightens his hands in his pockets, feels the tension of anticipation hot against his spine; and then he rocks forward, bracing his foot hard against Lawless under him, and bucks his hips in against Lawless’s mouth. His cock slides over the other’s tongue, presses against the open angle of Lawless’s jaw; and then runs up against the back of the other’s throat, the head bumping hard against the tension closing off Lawless’s throat to intrusion. Lawless groans, a helpless, wanting sound, and “Open,” Licht says, and Lawless tips his head back fractionally, and whimpers surrender, and obeys. Licht can see the shift in his throat, can see the motion of reflexive strain easing to deliberate submission, and when he rocks forward again his cock bumps resistance for only a moment before sliding in and down the line of Lawless’s throat.

Lawless makes a sound, or tries to; the resonance of it stalls out against Licht’s cock, Lawless’s voice dampened to a vibration of sensation that only Licht can feel, like a concert given just for him. Licht huffs a breath, feels heat swelling to fill the whole of his chest with something better by far than the oxygen he usually needs, and he finally draws his hands from his pockets to reach out and curl into Lawless’s hair. Lawless jolts at the contact, his eyes opening for a moment to gaze hazy appreciation up at Licht standing over him; but he doesn’t say anything, _can’t_ say anything as they are, and Licht winds his grip deep into Lawless’s hair, and draws the other’s head back, and starts to move in earnest, with his hands to brace the other’s head in place.

“I like you like this,” he says, volunteering words to fill the silence left by Lawless’s stifled voice. Lawless’s throat works around him, speech and breathing both locked away by the press of Licht’s cock into him, and for a moment the thought is enough to weight Licht’s lashes heavy over his eyes, enough to shudder heat up the whole length of his spine. His foot shifts, his weight bearing down harder on Lawless for a moment, and Lawless jerks under the pressure, his whole body trying to buck up against the resistance in a brief, involuntary spasm of heat. Licht shifts his heel against the floor, changes the angle of his foot against Lawless’s pants. “You’re beautiful when you’re not talking.” When he rocks forward the whole weight of his boot grinds against Lawless’s cock for a moment; Lawless’s lashes flutter, his eyes roll back, his throat tightens hard around the head of Licht’s cock. Licht draws back by a half-inch, almost enough to let Lawless have a breath before he thrusts forward again to fuck against the tension of the other’s throat.

“It’s like I’m playing you,” he says, the words coming unthought from his lips, carried on the wave of heat rising up his spine in time with the friction of Lawless’s mouth working in tiny, reflexive shudders around his length. “The keys--” as he digs his fingers into Lawless’s hair, as he drags his touch over the other’s scalp, “--and the pedals” as he shifts his foot over Lawless’s pants to grind friction over him. “A concert just for me.” Lawless is trembling against him, Licht can feel the other’s body quivering under his foot and in the grip of his fingers; he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, just keep moving them forward towards the inevitable crescendo. “You’re a perfect instrument, Hyde.” Lawless groans against him, Licht can feel the full-throated weight of the sound catch and spill around his length, and he tightens his fingers into the other’s hair, pulls Lawless’s head far back as he tips in over him to cast the other into his shadow. Lawless is thrumming to his touch, quivering with the force of Licht’s movement like he can’t hold himself together, as if his whole being is humming with that sound Licht can feel telegraphed directly into his body; and then Licht presses forward, and grinds his foot down, and Lawless jerks, his hips bucking up as his throat draws tight on a voiceless moan, and Licht can feel the full-body tremor of orgasm ripple through the other’s frame. Lawless is jolting against the weight of Licht’s foot against him, his thighs flexing in a futile attempt to press up for more friction, and around Licht’s cock his throat is shifting too, working over the outline of an overheated sound that stays silent but for the huff of heat it draws from Licht. Licht fists his fingers into Lawless’s hair, drags the other’s head far back as Lawless shudders through aftershocks under him, and then he rocks forward through a handful of rough, reflexive thrusts before the heat building along his spine crests, and breaks, and leaves him hissing with the sensation as his cock twitches and spills heat down Lawless’s throat. Lawless chokes at the wet, his throat working convulsively around Licht as he tries to swallow, and Licht groans at the feel of it, his whole body tensing through waves of sensation as Lawless shifts around him. The pleasure spikes high, the heat draws long, until finally there’s no tension left anywhere in Licht’s body, just the slack, languid satisfaction of relief running through the whole of him.

He pulls back slowly. Lawless doesn’t jerk away, doesn’t try to move at all; he just stays where he is, on his knees with his head tipped back, waiting patiently while Licht slides free of his mouth to leave him free to resume the pretense of breathing. His mouth is damp, the corner of his lips wet from the force of Licht’s motion; he touches his tongue to the spill as Licht eases his hold on gold hair, licking his lips clean as he blinks dazed heat up at the ceiling overhead. Licht slides his hands free and rocks his weight back over his bracing foot; Lawless shudders at the easing of the pressure at his pants, his spine arching him back in a last rocking attempt for more as Licht pulls away.

“You’re a mess,” Licht informs him as he pulls his clothes back into place and does up the fastenings at the front of his pants again. “Go take a shower or something.”

Lawless licks his lips again. “Yeah,” he says, but he doesn’t move for a moment, just stays where he is gazing blankly in front of him. He looks like he’s come untethered from his surroundings, like he’s forgotten for a moment who he is, as if the tags hanging around his neck don’t offer a constant physical reminder of his existence. It makes him look softer than usual, more fragile, like the weight of the world might be more than his slumped shoulders can handle, and for just a moment Licht can feel an ache against the inside of his chest, a pressure weighting against the beat of his heart like a counterpoint to the usual melody of his life.

Lawless doesn’t look up when Licht reaches out for him; his gaze is still unfocused, his attention so scattered that he jumps when Licht’s fingers brush his cheek. Licht can see Lawless’s lashes flutter through a blink, can feel the shift of his head as he looks up to meet Licht’s gaze; there’s something lost behind the dark of his eyes, some confused detachment like Lawless is struggling to place himself in the world again. Licht slides his hand through the weight of Lawless’s hair, pushing it back over the other’s ear and around to brace at the back of his head; Lawless’s lashes are still dipping in surrender to the drag of the touch when Licht leans in and down to press his mouth against the damp of the other’s. Lawless’s eyes go wide, he gasps an inhale against the friction, but Licht doesn’t pull away; he lingers for a full measure of time, letting the weight of his mouth print itself close against Lawless’s, and it’s only then that he draws back, slowly, to let the note of contact linger in the air.

“Take a shower, Hyde,” he says, and Lawless blinks, some of the haze behind his lashes fading and reforming into clarity as he gazes up at Licht. “I’ll be done by the time you’re back.” Lawless swallows, hard enough that Licht can hear the sound of it; and then he nods, ducking his head into something as much surrender as it is agreement before he shifts to get his feet back under himself. Licht draws his hand away from Lawless’s hair, turning back towards the piano as the other finds his way to his feet; he can feel music straining under his fingertips, can hear the whole pattern of that half-finished melody falling into place in his head with every step he takes closer to the instrument. By the time Lawless is moving towards the bathroom Licht is resettled on the piano bench, his fingers spanning the familiar pattern of the keys to draw out the chords and harmonies that he can still feel thrumming in aftershocks of heat through his veins.

In the end, Lawless is always Licht’s best source of inspiration.


End file.
